


The Darkest Night

by sksdwrld



Series: Choris Solaris [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Branding, Drug Addiction, Drugged Sex, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Violence, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Rentboys, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:19:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1201060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mordred is a prostitute and life is hard, but things are about to get much harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Drawing of the Dark

Mordred stood in front of the window, peering from behind the thin curtain. Dusk was drawing and that meant one thing. It was time to go to work. He abandoned his post and went into the bathroom. Balancing with one foot on the toilet, he reached for the lube. It was the one thing that he could not afford to be frugal with, and diligently worked himself until he was loose and slick.

 

He pulled on his jeans; low, tight, and with strategically placed holes that gave glimpses of his pale skin in all the important places. His rust-red shirt was just as tight, although not nearly as torn and it left nothing to the imagination. Punters weren't the imagining sort; they preferred to see exactly what was in store for them.

 

Mordred's body spoke for itself. He was petite and thin but not delicate. His face with it's long-lashed blue eyes, plump lips, and frame of grabbable curls was pretty but not effeminate. He didn't have to be asked to be fucked, it was a given.

 

Before pulling open the door, Mordred stuffed the pockets of his faux-leather coat with condoms and made sure that he had his room key. Two blocks down was the tail end of the strip. He'd been working it for the last month and he was making serious bank but it was getting to be time to move on. It wasn't far from the territory of a local pimp. Mordred had been warned off twice before by other whores and he really didn't to make it a third. He told himself that tonight was the last night on this side of town.

 

He'd been turning tricks for four hours when a big, blue SUV glided up to the curb. The window rolled down and a decent-looking bloke with chin-length, dark hair leaned across the seat to give him an appraising look. "Hey Pretty Boy, you like to party?"

 

Mordred grinned and slipped away from the wall that he'd been propped against to lean on the sill. "Yeah mate. D'you have in mind?"

 

"Depends on what it's gonna cost me."

 

Mordred blinked slowly. "Hundred to suck, two to fuck. Anything else's negotiable."

 

The bloke flashed his teeth and popped the locks. "Get in."

 

"We can do this here, or I got a room around the corner," Mordred said, fingering a condom as they pulled away from the curb. "What's your fancy?"

 

"Me?" The bloke tossed his arm over Mordred's shoulders and fingered his hair. "Oh, I just wanna talk."

 

Suppressing a sigh, Mordred leaned into the touch. No one ever just wanted to talk, but lots of guys liked to play the game. "Hundred an hour."

 

The driver simply nodded toward the glove compartment. When Mordred flipped it open, his jaw dropped. It was full of neatly stacked and rubber-banded piles of money.

 

"Jesus, you're flush!" Mordred exclaimed.

 

"Yeah," the driver agreed. "Maybe you heard'a me. Name's Cenred."

 

"Uhhh..." Mordred shook his head. "Sorry, mate. I'm sorta new in town. You'll have to clue me in, but I promise, I never forget a face."

 

Center's fingers twisted suddenly and painfully in Mordred's hair. "And you ain't never gonna forget this one, Pretty Boy. You been standing on _my_ streets, working _my_ clients, and the way I see it, you been makin' _my_ money. You owe me, Pretty Boy. You owe me big."


	2. The Nightmare Begins

Mordred leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands. He could feel the blood from the gash in his forehead trickling between his fingers, warm, wet, and sticky. His stomach rolled, and when Mordred peered down at the carpet, it spun and tilted. He moaned softly and Cenred's hand came to rest on his back. There was something else too, cold and heavy where it dug into his skin.

 

"You throw up on my upholstery, the bill's comin' out of your arse, and you already got a lot of debt riding on that hole, Pretty Boy. But that's alright, I bet you're real good at swallowing too, ain't cha? We're gonna find out in a coupla minutes."

 

The nose of the car went down and the windows flooded with the artificial light of a parking garage. When Cenred put the car in park, he fisted Mordred's hair and jerked him upright. "Well lookie that, red really is your color..."

 

Mordred grimaced as Cenred hauled him out through the driver's side and didn't have any other option but to march alongside him to the elevator. Censored smirked. "Going up, and then you're going down."

 

He swore under his breath as the doors to the lift opened. Cenred shoved him inside and as the doors closed, Mordred kissed his last chance to escape goodbye. He hadn't even fought back, but he wasn't stupid enough to think it would have done any good.

 

When they reached their destination, the door of the flat was already open, and a muscular, dark-haired man stood sentinel. Cenred shrugged out of his coat, handing it to the sullen-looking guard as he passed. "Pretty Boy, this is Elyan. You might have guessed that he works for me. We have a special arrangement. His sister used to be one of my girls, but she's semi-retired now, thanks to Elyan's services here. He fucks up, and she goes back to work. And the thought of that doesn't make Elyan very happy. I recommend that you don't fuck with him, but in the end, it's really your prerogative, isn't it?"

 

As Elyan shut and locked the door, Cenred flopped down into a white, overstuffed leather chair, beckoning to Mordred. "You, strip. Elyan, bring my kit."

 

Mordred's heart was thumping wildly in his chest and he tried to tell himself that this was going to be like any other job, except he knew that it wasn't. He peeled his clothes off and dropped to his knees, trying to keep it together.

 

Cenred smirked and fisted Mordred's hair again, yanking him closer. "Pretty <I>and</I> smart? That's a winning combination..."

 

Elyan returned with a silver tray and placed it on the coffee table. There was a bag of snuff, a razor blade, a few straws, and a pair of pliers. Cenred picked up the pliers and turned them over in his hand. "You know what I use these for?"

 

Mordred's eyes widened and he shook his head.

 

"These are my insurance policy," Cenred explained. "I don't like when dumb whores try to bite me, so I like to start off our fun and games with a warning. Your teeth so much as graze my cock, and I will pull them out one by one and then fuck the bloody hole. Got me?"

 

"Oh fuck..." Mordred  whimpered, folding his lips over his teeth as he shook his head.

 

"Good. But just in case you think I'm bluffing, I like to take one before we start. Now, the front ones come out a bit easier, but that's gonna ruin your look, Pretty Boy. The back ones are a bit harder to get out and you might hafta chew on the other side, but your moneymaker's still looking good...I'll let you choose."

 

Mordred's resolve crumbled and he started to cry. "Oh God, oh fuck, oh God...please. I won't bite, I swear I won't! Please, my teeth...don't take my teeth!"

 

"See, I don't trust whores..." Cenred reached out, cupping Mordred's face and tipping it up. Mordred pressed hundreds of kisses to Cenred's fingers between his sobs, and when Cenred tucked his fingers into Mordred's mouth, Mordred sucked them. "Nice teeth too, it's shame. Front or back?"

 

"Please!" Mordred sobbed, clutching at Cenred. "Please! I won't, I swear, I won't."

 

"I know you won't, Pretty." Cenred soothed. "But I'm a man of my word, can't have the other sluts thinking I'm merciful, can I? Here, I'll take one of the ones in the back. You'll thank me later. Elyan?"

 

Elyan moved the tray aside and moved Mordred onto the table so that his head tipped over the edge. Then, Elyan crossed Mordred's arms over his chest and sat on him, his weight crushing Mordred into the table and making him gasp.

 

Mordred screamed at the first taste of cold metal and didn't stop until there was a gush of hot iron.


	3. The Darkest Hour

There was nothing quite comparable to the experience of simultaneously choking on your own blood and someone else's cock. After things were through, Mordred knelt on the floor, prodding the empty socket where his tooth had been with his tongue and trying not to think too much about anything as he sniffled.

 

Cenred sat up after snorting the second line of coke off of Mordred's back, dusted the powder off of his nose, licked his fingers, and grinned. "I'm cruel but I ain't inhumane. What do you use, Pretty?"

 

"Use?" Mordred wiped his face with his hand, wincing at the soreness that was  spreading through his swollen lower jaw.

 

"C'mon, we already established you ain't stupid. Something to make you feel better. What do you use?"

 

"Poppers." Mordred said.

 

"Nah, that ain't no good. What else?"

 

 

"Weed."

 

"What else?" Cenred demanded. "Maddy?"

 

Mordred nodded. "Couple times."

 

"Coke? Crank?" Cenred reached into his pocket for Mordred's tooth. "Nah, I know you ain't a meth head, teeth are too nice."

 

"Nah, nothing heavy." He swallowed another mouthful of blood and told himself to stop playing with the hole.

 

Cenred patted down his pockets and came up with a small capsule. At this point, Mordred didn't even care what it was. The night was young, but already he was thinking death might be a better option than working for this madman. He opened his mouth but Cenred only smirked and twirled his finger. "Bottoms up."

 

What was one more indignity? In no time, Mordred was rolling pretty hard, but if anything, his anxiety was only amplified. He laid on the floor crying until Elyan picked him up and brought him into a bedroom. Cenred stood by while Elyan cuffed one of Mordred's wrists to the bedpost.

 

"When he comes down, juice him, and then keep him juiced until I tell you to stop." Cenred directed. Elyan nodded and made to brush past Cenred, but Cenred grabbed his elbow. "Call the boys up, tell 'em to come over. I promised Pretty here a party."

 

"Will do, Boss."

 

Mordred had no idea how long he was high for, only that at some point, he rolled off the bed and the jerk of his arm in the handcuffs was the only thing that kept his head from hitting the floor. People came; not just people but men-men who used him and left him sticky and wet. He ground his teeth together and chewed on the pillow, feeling too hot but not sweaty. He began to pant and moan, and then Elyan came with water and something else.

 

A needle.

 

Mordred stopped guzzling from the nozzle of the bottle and as he cried out, water and saliva spilled out of his mouth and down his chest. "Please, no. Please don't shoot me up, man. I'll fuck whoever you want but I don't wanna be a smackhead..."

 

Elyan glanced at him and flicked the tip of the needle before setting it down and pulling a tourniqet from his pocket. He tied it around Mordred's arm and felt for a vein. "I can't save all you arseholes, and I don't want to. I only care about my sister, so don't make this any harder on me than it already is. And don't fucking move, because if I stick myself with this needle after it's been in you, I'm gonna break your face. I don't want your fucking diseases."

 

"I'm clean, man, I'm clean!" Mordred promised, wincing as Elyan slid the needle into his arm. Warmth bloomed and sped through him, bringing with it a misplaced sense of euphoria.

 

Elyan tugged the knot of the tourniquet and stepped away. There was a sad, far-away look in his eyes. Not for long, you aren't."

 

Time passed. Mordred didn't really know how much, only that he came in and out of awareness, and every time he did so, there seemed to be someone different fucking him, or sometimes, even two people fucking him at once. The handcuff moved to his other wrist, and at one point, he was sure it was on his ankle. Each time Elyan came to visit, he brought with him glorious escape. He was beginning to look forward to seeing him, even though some part of him knew what that really meant.

 

It was pain that brought Mordred out of his stupor; not the ache of having been fucked for too long by too many people, but a deep, searing, sharp, horrible pain accompanied  by a disgusting burnt smell that only later would he realize was scorched flesh.


	4. The Beginning of the End

Four hours after Cenred branded his insignia into Mordred's left pectoral, Mordred was in a world of hurt. They hadn't dosed him with anything in awhile and all the pain that Mordred had been too blissed to care about was rolling over him. His arse burned. His stomach hurt. His chest throbbed. The muscles of his arms and legs ached. But most of all, his head felt like it had exploded, sending splinters of bone-shrapnel into his brain.

 

Mordred had gone from being slumped over the kitchen table to flat-out laying on the cool tile floor. When he started gagging, Elyan had been hasty to haul him into the bathroom, and arrange him over the toilet.

 

"Can't you give me something?" Mordred whimpered[](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1PU0uht7gFPVGRtjHUrgPUFGiye8lgM0I8ww_1GirBek/mobilebasic#cmnt6). He hated himself for asking.

 

Elyan paused at the door. "Boss said nothing until he gets back...I'm sorry."

 

By the time Cenred returned, the shakes had kicked in. Mordred had wedged himself between the wall and the toilet and wasn't sure if he could get up, but Elyan was there to cart him back to the table.

 

Cenred looked over him and then gestured to the blonde woman hovering in the corner. "Pretty Boy, this is Morgause. She's one of the nurses in the area who scratches my back so that I don't scratch hers. She's going to take a look at you and make sure that I haven't started killing you before you've repaid your debt. Open and say, <I>ah</I>."

 

Mordred shrank in his chair as she looked him over, prodding him in all the places that hurt the most. But she put ointment on his chest and bandaged him up. As she shook a couple of pills out of an envelope, Mordred sat up and took interest.

 

"It's just antibiotics," she said to Mordred as he gobbled them down dry. Then, she turned to Cenred. "Do you want my professional opinion?"

 

Cenred laughed. "Sure, humour me."

 

"He's going to get dry socket if he keeps up with the heroin and he's got some anal tearing. The brand is probably going to get infected if you can't keep him off of his stomach. Detoxing and withdrawal aside, he probably needs a week of rest, but you might want to think about admitting him." Morgause said without batting an eye.

 

"And now your opinion as my employee," Cenred snorted.

 

"Rehydrate him, stuff a sandwich down his throat, and put him on blowjob duty  for three or four days. Keep him on the antibiotics, and for fucks sake, give him something because I can't stand watching him shake like a beaten puppy."

 

"There it is," Cenred laughed and slapped her arse. "Thanks, doc."

 

Morgause leveled a steeley glare at him before turning to Mordred and pinching the cheek that wasn't swollen. "Take care of yourself, Pretty Boy, 'cause no one else is going to..."

 

Morgause slipped away and picked her purse up off the counter. "Now, are we through here or is there some other sad excuse of a human being that needs tending to?"

 

"My dick needs tending to..." Cenred leered.

 

Morgause dismissed him with a sniff. "No thanks."

 

"Until next time," Cenred laughed. Elyan opened the door for Morgause and she patted his shoulder as she passed. When she had gone, Cenred flicked his eyes disdainfully at Mordred. "What do you want?"

 

"Please..." Mordred whispered, his tremors nearly carrying him off the chair.

 

Cenred's looked at him for a long while and then sighed. "Elyan, you heard her. Give the kid something to take the edge off and see if you can't get him to eat, then put him to bed. Pretty Boy's got the morning shift."


	5. Chapter 5

"You'll find that I have loyal subjects everywhere," Cenred murmured into Mordred's ear as Elyan drove them through the city. He clutched Mordred's forearm as though to prevent him from leaping from the vehicle. "Doctors, nurses, cops, store owners, even people at the city morgue. Everyone's got a sister, brother, cousin, or mother you know. No one wants their loved ones to disappear."

Mordred swallowed and nodded dumbly. His head was still pleasantly buzzing from the last dose he'd been given.

Cenred smoothed Mordred's hair down and tucked a wayward curl behind his ear. "You know what that means, Pretty Boy? It means if you try to cheat me...if you try to screw me, take yourself to the police, to the hospital...I'll know. I'll know if you off yourself, or if someone does it for you. You're mine, now, Pretty. And I'm gonna work you hard. But if you prove yourself to me, sweet thing, well then I'm gonna take care of you real nice. Keep you feeling good, set you up in a place, let out the leash. Get me?"

Mordred nodded again as he stared out the window.

"You got six hours. I wanna see four hundred bucks when I pick you up. You give me four big ones, and you'll have earned your dinner and another pop. You make more than that, you get a cut. You ain't gonna make less, though, Pretty, so we ain't gonna talk about what I'll do if that happens." The car slowed to a stop in a run down area of town, with litter in the streets and boards on some of the windows. Mordred put his hand on the door handle but Cenred shook him. "You paying attention, Pretty?"

Mordred cleared his throat. "Yeah, I got it. I can't run, I can't hide, and I owe you four hundred pounds at the end of the day."

Cenred smiled and released Mordred's arm."That's a smart one. You're gonna go real far..."

Mordred stumbled out onto the street, the pavement jarring him as he landed on his knees. Cenred's laughter faded as the car pulled away and he picked himself up, sucking in a deep breath of fresh air. His first instinct was to leg it, as far and as fast as his legs would carry him, but he wasn't stupid enough, even in his drug-induced haze, to think that Cenred wasn't waiting around the corner to see what he would do.

So Mordred adjusted his clothes, scoped out the street where he'd been deposited, and found a wall to prop him up. Sure enough, ten minutes later, Cenred's blue SUV cruised past, and if Mordred had been feeling cheeky, he might have waved instead of waiting until it was gone to flip it the V-sign.

It was harder to pull in the morning when there weren't very many people around, but Mordred was hoping to do most of his business during lunchtime hours. Unfortunately, things weren't going to plan and by two o'clock, he had only made about £150. To make matters worse, the drugs were beginning to wear off and he was starting to feel sick again.

Mordred couldn't say for certain what fates awaited him if Cenred showed up and he was short, but he had it on good authority that it would not be pleasant. Part of him wanted to run, but Cenred had to be expecting that, and if he was caught...well, that was bound to be equally as unpleasant.

Equally as unpleasant.

It dawned on Mordred that the only difference was that punishment was guaranteed if he just hung around until Cenred picked him up, whereas if he made a break for it, there was a chance, albeit a small one, that he would actually get away. And if Cenred wasn't lying and actually had contacts all over the city, it meant that Mordred's best bet was to get as far away from there as fast as possible.

Fuck it. He had nothing left to lose, and he had to go now if he was going to have a chance at all. He broke away from the wall, darting across the road. Tires screeched and horns blared, but he didn't stop. The signs in the street led him to the nearest train station. Mordred slowed but didn't quit running until he reached a window.

The woman behind it looked vaguely irritated as he clutched his side and gasped for breath. "S'next train?"

She glanced at the screen in front of her. "There's one leaving for Winchester in fifteen minutes."

"Single." Mordred pulled a handful of crumpled bills out of his pocket and shoved them at her. He couldn't be arsed to count them and she did not look amused as she straightened and stacked them, pushing the excess back toward him along with his change and ticket.

By the time he made it to the platform, he was shaking again and his heart was still hammering in his chest. He legs and back were twitching from the exertion but Mordred was afraid that if he sat, he'd be unable to get up again when the train came. Instead, he paced nervously, chewing his nails as he watched the door.

Any minute now, Cenred was going to storm in, grab him by the arm, and haul him back to his flat for new and improved mechanisms of torture.

Except that Cenred never did. Mordred boarded the train, took his seat, and braced himself for the next leg of his journey.


	6. The Kindness of Strangers

Mordred was more of a wreck when he got off the train than he was when he got on it. And if he looked half as bad as he felt, he was a sorry sight indeed. A few blocks away from the train station, Mordred was beginning to think that he was being followed. He picked up the pace as much as he was capable of but couldn't seem to shake the skinny bearded man.

Mordred ducked into an alleyway, and waited for the man to pass. Instead, he turned too and Mordred's heart tried to claw it's way out of his chest. The whimper that escaped him was involuntary and he hung his head, just waiting to be jumped. Mordred was relieved but wary when the man approached just as cautiously, and inquired as to whether Mordred was in need of a pick-me-up.

Something to get him through the night would not be remiss, Mordred thought. When all was said and done, Mordred had three foil packets of heroin that the dealer had told him he could snort, and two small white pills he was told were oxycodone. He would rather have just bought pills, but they were expensive and couldn't afford enough with what little he had left. And now, he was broke again.

But Mordred didn't care about food -he wasn't hungry anyway- and he would eventually find a place to hole up for the night. He'd worry about tomorrow when it came but right now, he just wanted to stop his skin from crawling and his bones from aching.

He had no idea how much Cenred had given him, so he popped the first pill and waited to see what would happen. An hour later, he was fiddling with the packets in his pocket. Though the oxy had taken the edge off, Mordred still didn't feel _good_ and the little voice inside his head told him that after everything he'd been through, he deserved to feel good, at least for a little while.

Behind a dumpster, Mordred pulled one of the foil packets from his pocket and stared at it a long while. Then, he opened it, careful not to spill the powder. After a moment, he brought it to his nostril and snorted. The foil fell away as he cried out, grabbing his nose. The burning sensation was more intense than he'd expected and it was traveling into the space behind his eyes.

For the next couple of minutes, Mordred panicked, wondering if he'd even bought heroin at all, or if maybe he'd just inhaled laundry detergent. But soon enough, that warm, noddy feeling was rolling over him and he calmed significantly. Soon, he was slumped against the dumpster without a care in the world.

Awareness came back to Mordred slowly, like waking up from a nap on a warm afternoon. Except that it was freezing outside. He was still too high to care and distracted by the sound of heels and laughter that wafted toward him.

"Oh! Merlin, let's just stop at this last one!"

"For Christ's sake, Morgana, I can't carry anything else!"

"It's only two blocks, I'm sure we can manage. Besides, what if there's something brilliant?"

"Oi, Morgana, I'm tired!"

"Well, you just have a sit on one of those chairs and I'll not be a minute..."

The echoing clip of heels drew closer. Mordred stayed still, hoping to be overlooked. "Oh my God! Merlin? Merlin!"

"Fucking hell, you found a bloody lamp, didn't you? I knew you would, you have a knack you know..."

"A b-body. Ohmigod, ohmigod, would you get back here!"

"What!?" There was a crash and then the slap of feet on pavement.

"What are we going to do?" The woman lamented.

"Don't touch it, I'll call the police..."

Mordred's eyes snapped open, inciting a soft scream. He croaked, "Don't...don't call the police."

"Fuckall, Morgana!" The man chuckled nervously. "There. See? Not dead. Let's go."

"Shut up, Merlin." Tentatively, she stepped closer. "Are you alright?"

"Fine..." Mordred felt his pocket for his drugs and exhaled in relief. "Fine."

"What are you doing out here?"

"Um..." Mordred licked his dry lips. "Kipping?"

"For fucks sake, Morgana, he's a junkie. Let's go!"

Mordred flinched and his heart sank but he knew it was true. He was just a junkie now.

"You don't have a coat or a blanket?" Morgana said piteously.

Mordred shook his head. He had a pocket full of condoms and that was about it.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"Damn it, Morgana, come on!" The angry guy darted forward, grabbed her hand and hauled her back down the alley, lecturing her on the dangers of drug addicts and riff raff.

Her final argument echoed down the alley, "But he's just a kid!"

Mordred squeezed his eyes shut again and banged his head against the pavement in frustration. This was never where he had wanted to end up. Angrily, he dug his hand into his pocket, grabbing the two foil packets and the pill, and threw them away from himself. Almost immediately, a wave of anxiety crashed over him. It was going to hurt when he came down and he needed it to make him feel okay. He'd already spent the money and it was a shame to waste it.

In the darkness, Mordred scrambled to his feet and began feeling for the packets, his anxiety growing by the minute. Fuck, fuck, fuck, where were they?

When he heard someone clear their throat, he almost jumped out of his skin. But looking down the alley, he saw the man from before.

Mordred sat back on his heels. "Hey, mate. You come for a suck? I can take care of you better than your girlfriend can."

"Doubt it." He held out a grocery sack, and when Mordred didn't take it, put it on the ground. "There's two sandwiches -ham and cheese-, a bag of crisps, and a couple bottles of water. And er, here's a sodding blanket. You're moving on in the morning, right?"

Mordred swallowed as he reached for the blanket and pulled it around himself. "Yeah. 'Course. One night stay at the economy hotel."

The lanky guy nodded. "Right. Well, take care."

"Bye."

Mordred waited until the man had gone and then he reached into the bag, feeling for the water. He didn't have enough tears to cry, but he sent up a silent thanks and cracked the cap.


	7. The Queen of Hearts

The dawn brought with it a relentless drizzle that had Mordred soon soaked through, and though he'd been able to locate the heroin packets, the damp had rendered the powder too sticky to snort. Bereft of any other paraphernalia, Mordred ate them both, but it didn't seem to do anything for him.

He sat with his back against the dumpster, which was affording him the slightest rain cover and tried to ignore the itchy, frantic feeling that was crashing over him. Mordred couldn't feel his fingers or toes, but he couldn't tell if he was shivering from the cold or because of his need.

A hesitant voice called into the alley, "Are you still here?" It was the woman from the night before. Mordred thought she probably wanted her blanket back. He figured he would give it to her, and when she was gone, he could tie the plastic bag (that still held an uneaten sandwich) around his head and suffocate himself. It would be easier than going through this again.

When Mordred poked his head around the dumpster, she frowned at him and he retreated quickly. She came around and peered at him. "You don't look so good."

"Yeah, well." Mordred jerked involuntarily and made some sort of trilling sound in his throat. He tried to pretend that he wasn't mortified. "I'm probably dying."

Without reserve, she shifted her umbrella into the opposite hand and leaned forward, placing her hand on his forehead, then smoothing it down his cheek. "You're burning up. I'm going to call an ambulance."

"Don't!" Mordred begged. He had no idea how far Cenred's influence reached but he didn't want to find out.

"But if you're sick..." She shifted her weight on what looked like very expensive shoes. "If you're _dying_..."

"Then let me die." Tears welled up in Mordred's eyes and his hands shook as he brushed them away. "I'd rather die than go back there. I'd rather die than be an addict. If you want to help me, help me die. Walk away."

She bit her lip and turned, taking three steps before returning. "Get up."

Mordred gazed at her from the ground. "What?"

She snapped her fingers. "Up, up. I was going to drop you off a meal but I've changed my mind. Come with me."

"Where?" Mordred asked dubiously.

"Back to mine. It's warm, and dry at least." She beckoned to him again.

Mordred eyed her warily. "You gonna call the cops?"

"You gonna steal my shit or try to knock me over?" She mocked his inflection with her hands on her hips.

"No," Mordred said softly and dropped his gaze.

"Come on then," Morgana grabbed his bicep and helped him up, tucking the blanket around him and moving the umbrella between them. "You couldn't anyway, you know. A strong wind would probably blow you over and I'm tougher than I look."

Mordred jerked again and stumbled but she pulled him back. "You look pretty tough," he admitted.

"Which is exactly why you're not going to fuck with me." She asserted, then sighed. "I'm Morgana, by the way."

"M-mordred." He tentatively put his hand on her arm and she clasped it with her free hand briefly. "Your boyfriend's gonna be pissed."

"Yeah, but he'll get over it."


	8. The Wicked Day

Mordred had a long shower and changed into a pair of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt belonging to Morgana's boyfriend, Merlin. She’d made him a bowl of soup accompanied by an excessive stack of crackers. He’d only managed half before he was too agitated to eat anymore and paced around the flat, tearing at his hair, scratching his skin, and rubbing at his nose, which wouldn't seem to stop running.

He thought that he might be making her nervous and offered to go but she simply rolled her eyes, handed him a couple of paracetamol and a shot of Night Nurse with which to chase them. Mordred had been skeptical that they would do anything, but soon he felt sufficiently calmed to have a lie-down on her sofa.

Morgana covered him with a nice, thick blanket, and after some time, he managed to drift off into an unsettled doze.

If the sound of keys jangling in the lock hadn't woken him, the screaming of Morgana's boyfriend would have done it. "Oi! The fuck is he doing here? Have you gone barking mad?"

Mordred's brain wanted him to scramble up and push past the tall guy towering over him but his aching body barely wanted to shift and he just laid there, waiting to be assaulted.

"Merlin, would you calm down?"

"No Morgana, I won't. There's a bloody junkie on my couch! Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?"

"Do you have any idea what could have happened to him?" Morgana said with her hands on her hips. Merlin flailed, almost comically. "I don't give a fig about him! C'mon you, get up. You're going back where you came from."

Mordred cringed as Merlin hauled him up, but Morgana was there, staring him down. "Merlin! Don't you dare! You take one look at this scrawny, scared, beat-up kid and tell me how he's a threat."

"Are those my clothes? Fucking hell, Morgana. And what's this?" Merlin's eyes rolled over Mordred and his scowl deepened as he reached toward Mordred, pinching the fabric of the shirt over Mordred's left pectoral. He yanked his hand back and stared at his fingertips. "Fuck, that's blood. I've got his fucking blood on me."

In a panic, Merlin went to wash his hands and Mordred pulled up the shirt to find the scab where Cenred branded him half-torn away and oozing.

"What is that? What happened to you?" Morgana asked, for once not going straight into action.

"He fucking marked me like....like...I don't even know what." Mordred collected a rivulet on the edge of his index finger to keep it from tracking down his ribcage. "I'm his now. I'm not even a person, I'm property. And if he fucking finds me...if he doesn't kill me...I'm gonna wish he had."

"What! Who?" Morgana exclaimed.

"A...a pimp." Mordred shivered and then made another involuntary trill.

"Did you hear that?" Morgana glared askance and Mordred looked up to find Merlin drying his hands on a towel.

"That's human trafficking. He's not going anywhere, Merlin. It's not safe for him out there."

"It's not safe for us either as long as he's here," Merlin glowered "And he could be lying for all we know. If he's so scared, let him go to the police. It's not our concern."

"It's fine, I'll go." Mordred sniffled and wiped at his nose, realizing after the fact that he'd just smeared blood all over his face. "But the cops are dirty, so unless you want me dead, I'd much rather they weren't involved."

Morgana stared at Merlin and Merlin stared at Mordred until Mordred couldn't take it any more. He peeled off the soiled shirt and began to kick out of the jogging bottoms.

"Oh my god, what is he doing? What are you doing?" Merlin exclaimed.

"Fuck it. Just give me my shit back so I can get out of here."

"It's hanging up over the bathtub," Merlin directed coldly. But as Mordred moved past him, he swore. "Shit, your back..."

"What about it?" Mordred snapped, shivering and reaching for his clothes, which were still damp.

"It's covered in bruises...and...teeth marks. And..." Merlin followed him into the bathroom. "Is that a cigarette burn?" 

"I wouldn't know," Mordred replied. "But it would explain why it hurts so much."

"How could you not know?" Merlin made a face.

"I just don't! Maybe you should ask one of the dozens of people who fucked me while I was drugged unconscious and tied to a bed for...for...Shit, what day is it?"

Merlin swallowed. "Thursday. The tenth."

"Fuck." Mordred finished doing up his fly and then crouched, covering his face with his hands. His throat tightened with anguish and he said it again. "Fuck!"

"What?"

"A week. A bloody week." Mordred tried to think about what he had endured and couldn't. He slipped forward onto his knees as a sob escaped him. "Fuck, fuck, fuck.."

"Jesus..." Merlin whispered. After a minute, Mordred felt himself cradled by thin but strong arms. "Okay, come on, back to the sofa. I can't believe I'm saying this, but...fuck. You can stay."


	9. Love in the Time of Dragons

Morgana had gone to work, leaving Mordred alone with Merlin, who was not very happy about being forced to call into work, himself. Mordred wasn’t exactly sure that was a good idea, but as a guest of sorts, he didn’t have much choice in the matter.

As things turned out, Merlin wasn’t half as cold as he’d been the night before, but he maintained his careful air, tracking Mordred wherever he went and not leaving him alone for more than a minute at a time. Mordred supposed he should be grateful that Merlin had been so diligent: during his darker moments, he’d been unable to find any razors or blades in the bathroom at all, and the knives in the kitchen seemed to be in the dishwasher for most of the day.

Mordred hadn’t thought that it was possible for the second day of withdrawal to be worse than the first but he spent much of it holed up in the bathroom while every muscle in his body worked in communal effort to vomit out his skeleton. He was shaking, sweating, nauseous, cramping, and achy. The thought of food seemed to trigger his gag-reflex, and his eyes and nose streamed continuously, even when he wasn’t actively crying. Even with the help of Nurse Night (which tasted of liquid death and long purged souls), he couldn’t stop quaking long enough to rest. It was like his body was trying to make up for the week he’d spent retaining fluids and blissed out of his mind by taking forcing him to re-experience every second of torture he’d endured but drawn out in some sort of backward, slow motion reel.

When Morgana came home with take-away, Merlin was helping Mordred to clean himself up after his most recent near-miss with projectile vomiting in the bathroom. Mordred was shaking so badly at this point that he couldn’t even hold onto the flannel by himself. Heroin withdrawal aside, Mordred had never been so embarrassed and ashamed of himself. He must have begged Merlin to help him end his life about a thousand times that day, and for all of Merlin’s posturing the night before, all he’d done was help Mordred eat some soup, dig a straw out of one of the drawers so that Mordred could stop spilling water on himself when he drank, and cleaned him up a handful of times.

“Go...” Mordred pushed at Merlin weakly and Merlin hesitantly went to the sink to wash his hands.

“You want something to eat?” Merlin said with a sidelong look.

Mordred’s only response was to grip the rim of the toilet a little tighter as he leaned over it.

“Right. You’ll ah, call, if you need something?”

Mordred gave him the thumbs up signal and tensed as his body tried to spit out his organs again.

Later on that night, when Morgana had convinced Merlin that it was safe to go to bed, Mordred lay shivering on the couch for a long while. The glare from the telly was bothering his eyes, so he’d switched it off, but when his stomach lurched again, he slithered to the floor and crawled into the bathroom, too afraid that his legs wouldn’t support him on the way.

Being that the walls were thin and that the bedroom abutted the bathroom, Mordred could hear every word that Morgana and Merlin exchanged, with only the slightest muffle.

“Did you hear that?” Merlin said in a stage-whisper. “I think he’s up.”

“I didn’t hear anything...” Morgana murmured.

“Morgana, I can’t do this, knowing he’s out there.”

“People fuck, Merlin, and this is our apartment, I’m sure Mordred is quite understanding.”

“God, don’t say his name.” Merlin groaned. “And I spent the day knee high in his body fluids. I’m really not feeling it tonight, Morgana, I’m sorry...”

“Oh, come on, Merlin!” Morgana said in dismay. “I had a really long day at work making up for yesterday, and I _am_ feeling it. I’ll even do that thing you like...”

“What thing?”

“You know, with my fingers...”

Mordred would have smiled except that he was desperately trying to choke down the bile that was pushing at the back of his throat. These people who had shown him such kindness deserved a minute to themselves.

"Perhaps I can be persuaded after all..." Merlin said. There was a girlish giggle, followed by a soft hum and the sound of the boxspring creaking as they rearranged themselves.

Mordred's throat constricted and he felt an itching buzz that wouldn't let him swallow again. For two days, the muscles of Mordred's vocal cords had been spasming, causing him to make a myriad of involuntary sounds. This time when he jerked, the resultant chirp was just the opening his stomach needed. His back arched with the force of his heaving, and when he was finished, a pitiful whimper escaped him.

There was a brief moment of silence but it was quickly punctuated by Merlin's groan. "God, he sounds like a dying dragon..."

"Merlin! He can hear you." There was a soft slap and then, "Mordred, Sweetie, are you okay?"

Mordred rolled his tongue around his mouth, spat, and hung his head. "Never better..."


	10. The Eye of the Phoenix

One day, Mordred woke up feeling strange. It took him a few minutes to pinpoint exactly what it was, but then it dawned on him. He wasn't in excruciating pain. His skin wasn't crawling. He could breathe without snuffling. He dared to hope that the worst had passed and hesitantly took a deep breath. As Mordred patted himself down, he noted that his muscles were still faintly sore and his ribs more prominent than they had ever been before.

The bedroom door opened and feet padded softly toward him. He felt cool fingertips feel his forehead and cheek and he smiled. "Morgana...I think it's over."

"That's great, honey. You want a cuppa?" Morgana's fingers trailed away from him as she turned and went into the kitchen.

"Yeah." Mordred sat up slowly and stretched, then peaked inside his shirt at the scab on his chest. It was still crusty and ugly looking, and with a rim of puffy red skin. Scowling, he dropped the collar of his shirt -no, Merlin's shirt- and prodded the gap in the back of his mouth where his tooth had been. No longer tender, but still gaping, it was just another reminder of what had happened. "Fuck."

"What's the matter, are you dizzy? Don't get up. I'll be there in a second." Morgana said, bustling with the kettle.

By the time she reached him, Mordred was losing the battle of holding back tears. "I'm never going to be free of him...he's going to haunt me until I die. He took so much, Morgana, so much..."

"Oh, Mordred..." Morgana pulled her dressing robe around her as she sat beside him and drew him toward her. "It's going to be okay, baby. He can't hurt you any more. Merlin and I...we're going to take care of you, until you get back on your feet."

"We are?" Merlin yawned and shuffled across the floor, scratching his stomach.

"Merlin..." Morgana warned and Mordred burrowed more deeply into the pillowy softness of her breast. She stroked his hair softly.

"I mean...we are." Merlin pulled open the refrigerator and stared into it. "Fancy some pancakes?" "Oh, God, pancakes..." Mordred moaned, "I love pancakes."

"Did he just say he loved pancakes?" Merlin questioned. "I was of the impression that he hated all food groups equally."

Morgana pulled back, giving Mordred a grin and a pat to his cheek. "Said he was feeling better. I have a feeling we're about to meet the real Mordred."

"Yes, well, let's hope the real Mordred is a reformed junkie who doesn't pawn our valuables before skipping town." Merlin said as he took butter, milk, and eggs out of the refrigerator.

Before Mordred could decide if he had the right to be offended by that, Morgana cast him a sidelong look and said, "You couldn't possibly carry the telly on your own, all my expensive jewelry is in the safe, and if you even think of taking my shoes, I'll hunt you down and deliver you to that pimp myself. That said, everything else is Merlin's, thereby not worth a penny, but I'll leave some money on the counter before I leave."

"Oi!" Merlin protested and Mordred was ready to echo that sentiment when Morgana winked and got up to help Merlin in the kitchen.

"Everything is going to be fine, Merlin." Morgana promised, taking down the tea tin.

"You trust too much. It was one thing while he was too sick to do anything, but now..."

"Now, he's got it too good to leave." Morgana smiled again and Mordred hesitantly smiled back. She poked Merlin between the shoulder blades before sliding her arms around him. "And you don't trust enough."

"I'm not looking forward to saying 'I told you so'..." Merlin sighed, leaning back against her.

"You won't have to." Mordred promised as he stood up. "I give you my word. It's not much, but it's all I have, and it's thanks to you that I even have that. I'll do whatever I can to repay you. There's not many who would have helped me like this and I know it. You're good people, the both of you. I owe you my life, I'm not about to nick your things."

"There, you see?" Morgana jiggled Merlin's shoulder and he stuck his tongue out at her. "How many pancakes do you want then, Mordred? Houseguests get 'em while they're hot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the next part.


End file.
